The Third Saint: Back In Business
by Heart of a Dixon
Summary: Its been eight years. Eight years since Kira has seen either of the MacManus boys. She has healed up since their little escapade into Papa Joe's home, and even come to terms emotionally with death and the boys abandonment of her. But now their back and Murphy learns the hard way that there are just some things that can't be undone. Sometimes "I love you" just isn't enough anymore.
1. Eight Years

I groaned in protest at the alarm on the nightstand. "Derrick, turn it off," I grumbled into the pillow.

He chuckled but hit the snooze button. He was already dressed and ready for work. It was like that every morning. He would wake up at least an hour before his alarm was set, forget it was set, get ready for work, and then listen to me gripe about his damn alarm.

"Do ya have to work today?" I whined, sitting up on the bed, dressed in one of his long button-up shirts. I rubbed at my eyes and yawned as he laughed.

"Yes, I do. But, how about we go out tonight? After work, I'll call you and we can decide what to do from there."

I grinned and nodded. "Okay."

He leaned down and kissed me quickly, but didn't pull too far away.

I smiled, our faces still mere inches apart. "My fiancé the workin' man."

He laughed and kissed me again. As usual, the first thing that popped into my head when he kissed me was not Derrick Duffy, but Murphy MacManus. And, as usual, the first thing I felt was a guilty mixture of heartache and desire.

"Ill see you later then," he said, picking his coat up and tossing it on.

I nodded, pointing at him with a gun-like finger gesture. "Ya bet yer ass."

He exited the apartment and left for work.

I sighed when I was alone, anxious for whatever it was that I could feel in my gut was coming. Nervous for my wedding in only a single month. Happy that I was getting married. Depressed that Murphy and Connor MacManus were still in Ireland. At least as far as I knew.

I decided, now, a month from the wedding, I should probably decide the flowers and other wedding whatnot.

"Whatever you want. You decide," Derrick had told me when we started to discuss the details of the wedding.

My relationship with Detective Duffy was pleasant, comfortable, normal. He was sweet and funny (even though it was mainly when he wasn't trying to be that he was) and I could tell he loved me a lot. But my relationship with Murphy had been electric, dangerous, out of the blue, constantly in a state of movement, always running from one thing or another.

There was excitement and passion and soul-deep love. With Derrick, we had all those things, but on a lesser degree. There wasn't much in the way of excitement except for the quickly coming wedding. There was passion, but not the beautiful, heartbreakingly ever-present passion Murphy and I had shared. And love? There was most definitely love. But, even with that stupid, stubborn Irishman in another country from me, I loved him more than anyone.

But I was moving on. I had built a life with Detective Derrick Duffy and had even come to love him. We had started dating a few weeks after I was released from intensive care eight years ago. He had asked me to move in with him three years later.

And then, almost a year ago, he asked me to marry him. And I had been ecstatic and accepted. He had made sure everything was perfect. The lighting, the atmosphere, the people around us. Smecker had been there as well… But he was gone now.

I sighed and stood from the bed, traversing the wooden floor to the closet. In the bottom were two large boxes. One was a box of my old stuff. Memories, I guess you could say. Old photographs, letters, tickets, and other things of the sort. In the other was all of the wedding decisions I had yet to make.

I had been going for the box of marital details, but upon seeing the old box that used to sit in the corner of my room in the apartment I used to live in across the hall from the MacManus brothers… I had to at least peek inside again. I hefted the box up and onto the bed.

Near the top was more recent stuff. Me with South Boston's finest detectives. There were some of the four of us when we went camping last spring. There were a couple of the night Tommy proposed to me, Greenly's eyes closed and mouth opened in every one. I chuckled at them and tossed them onto the bed beside the box.

Farther inside, I found an old key ring with both an old copy of the door to my old loft and one to the MacManus boys'. I sighed and dropped them, jingling, onto the photos.

Below that, was the letter.

"_Dear Kira, _

_I'm sorry I had to do this. Trust me, I didn't want to. Especially not with you asleep. But things are getting too hot in Boston for me and Connor. _

_I know you hate him and I thought I did for a while, too, but the man that shot you is my father. Noah MacManus. _

_By the time you're reading this, if you ever get the chance to, I will already have left the united states for Ireland with Conn and Da. We killed Yakavetta. He killed Rocco. I'm sorry, I know I'm pretty much leaving you with no one. _

_But I love you. Forever. _

_Murphy MacManus._"

Even now, reading it hurt. My eyes stung and my stomach clenched up. But I had learned to handle it over the years. The thing that always broke me was his signature, the goofy, scrawling handwriting of a kindergartner. Murphy never had been very good with writing utensils.

I sighed, eyeing the old tearstains on the worn out, crumpled up, taped-together old piece of paper.

Under the note were clippings of various newspapers, all telling of the Saints of South Boston. They had never known that there were more than two. At least not until they learned about Rocco. They had never known there was a girl as a part of the saints.

I dropped the news clippings aside, exposing some old photos. David Della Rocco had been one of my best friends along with the MacManus twins. He had died the night I was wounded bad enough to be placed in intensive care for almost a month.

Another picture, I remembered taking (which was odd because it was taken in a bar). And any time I was in that particular bar, I tend to not remember things like taking pictures or pulling harmless pranks on Rocco. But this one was memorable.

It was the night Connor had thrown a surprise birthday party for me at McGinty's, the old Irish pub we went to close to every night. We were old friends of the bartender and owner, Doc. I had gotten another bar attendant to take the picture.

In it you could clearly see the polished wood bar, the stools knocked everywhere. Doc didn't much mind rowdiness in his bar.

I had on a big pink frilly birthday hat that Connor and Murphy had picked out. The print on it had been 16, but Connor had cleverly scratched it out with a black marker and wrote in 27. On either side of me was a MacManus brother, Connor smiling in that way of his that made the bottom of his eyes crinkle. Murphy, quietly grinning with his arm around my shoulders. Rocco was standing behind me, a hand on my shoulder and a cheesy smile plastered on his face for the camera. Doc, beside Connor, was in the middle of stuttering out something. Probably a retort to Connor's joke about his mismatched proverbs.

I decided I had some errands to run. First, like I did at least once every month, I visited Rocco's memorial in a hall of pictures and names. I bent my head and prayed, for the boys to be alright wherever they were, for Rocco to be at peace, and for Doc to get over whatever odd stomachache it was that he had.

After that, I went by McGinty's. I came here every night just before Derrick got off work to check on Doc and relive the golden years.

"Hey, Doc," I greeted the old man, hanging my scarf on the coat rack by the door.

The old bar had changed very little over the years. Most of the scuffs and torn up furniture had been either repaired or replaced, the lights were brighter now, illuminating the bar so it wasn't as dingy as it had been. I had liked the dinginess, but it was easier to see, so I still liked it. There wasn't much of the familiar old chaos in the bar anymore. No more bar stools overturned, drunken men passed out in the corner from the night before, or tables with splintering edges from where a fight had broken out. It was lacking two of its most rowdy patrons.

I wasn't as much of a drinker as I had been, but every now and then I indulged. I'm Irish I couldn't stay away from Guinness for too long at one time. But the fact that I'm Irish means that my definition of "every now and then" is probably a little warped when its alcohol we're talking about.

Doc stuttered out a greeting and waved me over.

I sat down at the bar, the seat I had sat in every day since I started coming here 13 years ago. "Thirteen years, Doc," I muttered, looking around at the old place. It had come to be like home. "Do ya think the boys miss it here? In the bar? Do ya think they miss us?" I glanced back at him.

He set down the glass he had been cleaning and laid his frail old hand on my arm. "D-Don't ya worry now, K-K-Kira. The Lord t-told me they'd be comin'. Th-th-they're on their way right now I bet ya."

I smiled up at the old man, putting my hand over his, saddened both because this poor old man obviously whole-heartedly believed it, and because I desperately wanted to. "Well, Doc, I'll be back tomorrow night, alright? I've got lots to do with the wedding plannin' and everything. Ya take care," I said, leaning across the bar to peck him on the cheek.

I was on my way to a bakery to sample cakes, when I passed an appliance store with dozens of different kinds of television sets in the window. Every single one of them was tuned to Channel 25 live news. I paused momentarily, just checking the story.

"There is no new information on the victim found slain this morning inside the Church of the Holy Saints."

My eyes widened as I took in the sight of the church I attended every Sunday and Wednesday. The same church the boys had gone to.

"As you can see, the crowd here has increased substantially as we have confirmed that the body was ritualized with pennies in the eyes. Many remember this as the grisly calling card of the prolific vigilante known as the saints," I gasped. That couldn't be the boys. They would never, ever kill a priest. "who went on a murder spree here in Boston - A rampage that ended eight years ago when the Saints brazenly walked into open court and executed Mafia don Papa Joe Yakavetta before a courtroom of terrified witnesses and then simply disappeared without a trace."

Clips of the passionate display of law-laying the boys and their father had given eight years ago in a courtroom played. I forced myself to look away when I saw Murphy's face. I had seen the clips before, though I had been knocked out when it actually took place.

"As police have yet to confirm the Saints' possible involvement, the ominous question hangs heavy in the air. Are they back?"

I raced as fast as I could back to the apartment I shared with Derrick, the entire time, Doc's statement about the boys coming back echoing around in my head.


	2. Ace In The Hole

DUFFY'S POV:

I rubbed my chin in thought. "We need to keep our heads here. It's probably not even them."

Dolly looked up, the face of a madman staring at me. "Of course it aint them. Doesn't really matter, does it? All our skeletons just came screaming out of the closet. We're fucked!"

"We're not fucked!" I said sternly as Greenly approached us.

"We are totally fucked," Greenly informed us, using outrageous amounts of hand gestures. "And not just fucked. Like elephant-dick-pounded-in-the-ass-no-reach-around-jungle fucked!"

I frowned. "Now's not the time to panic, Green Beans."

"Well I disagree! Now is a perfect time to panic. We're all accessories-"

"Don't fuckin' say it!" Dolly warned him, pointing a finger in his face.

"I'm gonna say it alright."

"You got a mouth on you, Greenly."

"Both of you calm down. Just calm down," I interceded. They both continued to spout random insults at each other. "Shut the fuck up!" I yelled.

Someone at the door cleared his throat. I looked up to see one of the officers, Seamus. "Her ETA's 10 minutes."

Dolly smiled widely, obviously fake. "Thanks, Seamus."

Greenly nodded dutifully, and I gave him a snap and a tongue-click.

We took a few more minutes before heading outside to meet Special Agent Eunice Bloom. I rubbed at my eyes worriedly.

I knew Kira would be ecstatic, as well as a little worried for them, if the boys were back. And I would love for them to be back, too… if it weren't for the fact that my fiancé had a fling with Murphy MacManus.

I guess it wasn't really a fling, so much as eight years of knowing each other and hard times that forced them to admit they were in love. Thinking about it made my head hurt.

I wanted for them to be back, really I did, because they were great guys. But there were so many things that were bad that could happen to me if they were back. Not only could the secret that Dolly, Greenly, and I had aided them in the public execution of Papa Joe land us in prison, but also, I might lose the woman I love.

Who's to say that the second Murphy walks through the door she doesn't swoon and fall into his arms and he carries her away like the dangerous, bad-boy, vigilante, Irish hunk she made him out to be?

I remembered the first time I ever laid eyes on Kira, eight years ago, when she and the boys walked into the station, all of them bloodied and bruised, carrying each other like a family. I remembered every detail. The large blood stain on the side of Kira's tank top, the dirt on her fuzzy Thumper pajama pants, the look of determination when she looked at Connor and saw how bad his condition was.

She had looked around when she first walked in, and she probably didn't remember it… but I did. I remembered everything. She looked around, her hazel eyes surveying everything and everyone before they landed on me. She smiled at me, giving me a nod in greeting. I was too star struck to do anything.

And then Murphy had made a joke about Irishmen and beer. And she laughed. I swear, all the way across the laughter-filled station, I heard it loud and clear. And then she smiled at him over Connor's head, and he smiled back at her. While looking at each other, it seemed that their smiles were amplified. It almost hurt to look at. I knew they were in love.

It was even easier to see the next morning, after they exited the holding cell the three of them had spent the night in. Connor had gone to make a phone call, and the two of them were standing in front of us.

I held up a tray of coffee and some donuts. "We would be honored if you would join us."

They both took a coffee and then Dolly showed them the paper. She moved closer to him, her body language indicating years of friendship. They were very comfortable around each other… except those identical blushes.

"She's here," Dolly sang, peeking out of the window of the church.

I sighed and stood, mentally cursing all dangerous bad-boy vigilante Irish hunks in the world.

MURPHY'S POV:

The dream started out much the same as it usually did. I was young again, back to my physical late-twenties appearance, Kira was laying in my arms. We were in her bed in her loft across the hall from mine and Connor's.

She sighed happily and rested her head on my bare chest. "I love ya, Murphy," she said, her voice probably not even close to how it actually sounded. Over the years, my memory of her voice had faded. I hadn't heard it in so long. I retained more of it than I had figured I would have.

"I love ya too, Kira," I responded, my voice a bit younger than it was currently.

She looked up at me and suddenly transformed. Her face lost some of its roundness and her eyes were more knowing than they usually were (which was a bit intimidating, but sexy all the same), and her hair grew longer. She stood up, suddenly fully clothed, and hold up a handled mirror.

I stood and accepted it, looking into it. I was back to being in my thirties.

She came around behind me and I could see her reflection in the mirror as she put a hand on my shoulder and used her other hand to mess with the hair on the back of my head. "Yer hair's longer," she murmured, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder.

"So is yer's," I responded, dropping the mirror to turn to her, running my hands through her hair.

"I miss ya Murph," she whispered, sounding pained.

I took her face in my hands. "I miss ya too."

I started to bend down to kiss her, but she pulled back, turning away from me. "Kira?" I asked, knowing just what was happening as it had happened before in every other dream I had had for the past eight years. But I wasn't in control of myself. The dream was. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head back and forth. "I hate you," she spat venomously, not turning around. I could hear the tears in her voice.

"Kira, I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave-"

"Then why did ya?!" she turned quickly, tears streaming down her face. "Ya said ya loved me. And I believed ya. Ya hurt me more than ya can ever know, Murphy MacManus. I'll never forgive you."

I shook my head, not believing this for a minute. I was thoroughly convinced this girl was made for me, to be with me, to let me love her. I couldn't accept her turning away from me.

I rushed forward, taking her arms and pulling her to me. She didn't struggle. She still loved me. I bent and kissed her, subconsciously willing this kiss to be longer than the last ones.

But, like usual, she pulled back and shook her head. "I'm not yer girl anymore, Murph." And with those last words, she dissolved into a shower of silver sand, leaving me with only the memory of a ghost's kiss.

Oo0oO

The chatter was loud and the lights were bright. We were headed back to America. To Kira. I felt a little nervous to see her again after all this time. Would she be happy to see me? Would she like the changes in me? Did she hate me for leaving like she told me in my dreams? Had she moved on? So many questions that would have to wait until we docked.

But for now, we set to fixing up our tattoos, touching up on the water behind Jesus on Connor's back.

"How would they even recognize us?" I asked, chewing on a piece of gum as I placed small dots of ink on Connor's back.

"Ya don't remember the fuckin' sketches on the news channel?"

"Oh, shit that's right. Ya know, every time ya see those composites on TV and they catch the guy, it looks nothin' like him. But ours-"

"Just our luck, right?" Connor grumbled. "We draw Leonardo fuckin' da Vinci as a sketch artist."

"And two days ago, we looked like Jesus Christ," I said, recalling our shaggy hair and beards. "What the fuck'd we cut our hair for?"

I briefly wondered whether Kira would've liked it. She never seemed to really prefer any specific hair length. But she seemed to have a thing for blond guys. Or at least all of the men she had ever talked to me about.

"Yeah that's right," Connor mused. "I don't know, it seemed like the thing to do at the time, though, didn't it?"

I glanced up at the back of his head, thinking deeper about Kira's hair color preference. She and Connor had always seemed to have some kind of connection and he had light-colored hair. "Maybe we should dye it."

"What?"

My face instantly heated up. "Well, they're always dyin' their hair in the movies, l-like _The Fugitive._ Its covert and shit."

"What color would ya dye it?" Connor asked quickly, seeming to take amusement from my petty thoughts.

"Lighter… I guess," I admitted, trying to sound uncertain.

He chuckled a bit. "Do you mean blond?"

"I didn't fuckin' say that!"

"Like California surfer boy?"

"That's not what I'm sayin'!"

He continued laughing until I could see that even his neck was red from laughter. "Like gay, gay, gay, faggoty blond?"

"I'm fuckin' warnin' ya!"

"Stay gold, Ponyboy!"

"I'm fuckin' warnin' ya!"

"Stay gold-"

"Fuck you!" I plunged the tattoo pen into his back.

He yelled out and tossed the pot of boiling pennies to the ground. "Ah! Ya fuckin' cunt! Jesus fuckin' Christ!"

"Well, I was fuckin' mad!"

"What kind of fuckin' crazy-" he took a swing at me, but I held my fists up, ready for a fight.

The door to one of the large crates around us moved aside and that Mexican we had bet on in the fight earlier came out, wearing a navy blue jumpsuit. "I know who you are," he said slowly, glancing back and forth between the two of us. "You guys are-"

"Shut it!" Connor interrupted him, poking a finger to his chest and looking around for any wandering eyes. The Mexican shook his head. "Oh, this is so fuckin' cool, man! I'm from Boston and I love you guys, shit, everybody loves you guys. Maybe I can get on this thing, bring some raza into this." He got excited. "Hey, is it true you guys say a prayer before you grease somebody?"

Connor and I stared back and forth between each other and him. Then we each grabbed a shoulder and lifted him off his feet, planting his back onto the floor of the boat. I quickly used my hand to cover his mouth as Connor grabbed a gun from the top of his bag.

"And an awesome wailing," Connor started, "was heard throughout heaven-"

"And the terrible hand of the lord struck upon the earth!"

"And as almighty God, created you… Now, he calleth you home!"

The Mexican was mumbling half-hearted "please"s into my hand, but Connor was now pointing the gun directly at his face. Connor pulled the trigger, but all that came out was a tiny click. "Oops, busy signal. We'll have to calleth back."

Connor and I stood up, chuckling. "Let's have a shot while we're waitin'!" I proposed. Connor and I each took a swig out of the bottle.

"I think he took a little piss!" Connor shouted, doubled over with laughter, gun still in hand.

"That shit was not funny!" the Mexican guy said, still laying on his back.

Connor held his wrist up to his face and said, "It just came out me fuckin' nose!"

Oo0oO

"No," Connor said after taking a quick drink.

"I've got connects all over Beantown, man," Romeo told us, trying to get in on our saintly agenda. "Romeo hook you up like a tow truck."

I looked down at my cigarette, thinking of Kira as usual, and then shook my head. "No."

"Why not?"

"We don't have to give ya fuckin' reasons. Forget it." I took the bottle from Connor and allowed the burning liquid to ease the pain of her memory. It didn't feel right letting someone in on the whole Saint business after Rocco died and with Kira still in America.

"Its 'cause I'm Mexican, isn't it?"

"How dare ya, sir, insinuate such a thing," Connor said with a straight face. But his smile cracked through and he was chuckling again. "The fact that yer a greasy spic, its got nothin' to do with it!"

I laughed with him, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, a cigarette in the other. A poster child for bad habits.

"Okay, I'm gonna let ya have that one, but I can do this, okay? This isn't rocket surgery." The fact that he called it rocket surgery didn't bother me as much as it should have. "You guys find the bad guys doing bad stuff and you kill them, right?"

Conn shook his head. "Well, its not that simple actually."

"Yes," I said, thinking about it. "It is."

"I suppose yer right. I was just hopin' that we was bein' a bit more artistic about it, I think."

"Yeah? Well, ya aint," Romeo said, passing the bottle to him. "Now, what do you plan on doing when you get to US soil?"

"We don't really have, ya know," Connor floundered around for the right words. "a succinct plan yet, ya know… Per se."

"Haven't really worked it all out," I put in, waving my cigarette adorned hand around. "As it were."

"As it were," Connor agreed. "Not fully developed, per se."

Romeo looked unimpressed, but also slightly amused. "You two leprechaun dicks need to chill in the green room, sippin' on some Pellegrino and let your manager handle all the details. And you'd better have my Cub Scout Badge ready. 'Cause if you wanna kick Yakavetta in the nuts, have him wake up with a horse head in his bed, Romeo's got a ace in the hole for ya."

Well, his chances of getting in were a little bit better… I guess.

* * *

**Ooooooooh I cannot wait until Kira and the boys meet back up :) Hopefully you guys can't, either :D Thanks for reading! Please review! :D **


	3. The Character of a Little Bitch

KIRA'S POV:

When I got back to the apartment, Derrick was home.

I dropped my keys in the tin by the door and walked up to him. "Is it true? About the priest?"

He nodded grimly, taking my hands.

"And th-the pennies?"

He glanced at me and then looked down and nodded again. "Is it them?" I whispered. "Are they back?"

He sighed, seeming to age a hundred years over just a few seconds. He shrugged. "I don't know. If they aren't here now, they're coming. You can bet they wouldn't be able to leave the death of a priest alone."

I nodded, knowing the boys well enough to know they absolutely wouldn't. Couldn't. Then I thought of something that hadn't hit me until then. "Derrick, if they come back-"

"Look, I know you love Murphy," he said, sitting down at the foot of the bed and sighing.

I furrowed my brow. That hadn't been what I was going to say. I was about to tell him that if they came back, I wasn't going to let the murder of an innocent man go unpunished. I had been called into this by God as much as either of the boys. But I wanted to hear what he had to say.

"And if he comes back… You're probably gonna leave me and-"

I shook my head and dropped to my knees in front of him, taking his hands. "Derrick," I said quietly, forcing him to look up at me. "I wouldn't leave ya like that. Ya know I wouldn't."

But he didn't look convinced.

I lifted myself from the ground and sat on the bed beside him, taking his face in my hands. I kissed him softly, lingering in it a little and forcing my mind not to automatically drift to images of a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy with a ridiculously adorable temper. I pulled out of the kiss and leaned my forehead against his, my hand still on the side of his face.

"He left me. With only a letter to tell me goodbye. I understand that he had to do it, but that's the way things worked out. We're engaged now. Whatever feelings I had for M-Murphy," I still had trouble saying his name outright. "or that he had for me… that's in the past now. _You_ are my future."

He smiled, laying a hand over mine on his face. "Have I ever told you," he started, pulling me closer. "That I love your accent?"

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Only several times every damn day."

MURPHY'S POV:

I glanced distastefully around the inside of the tiny orange car. There was a Jesus bobble head hanging upside down from the ceiling. "I thought ya said yer car was inconspicuous," I grumbled, looking out the window as Boston passed us by.

We were getting closer to Kira. At the thought of her, my insides jittered. I wondered whether she really looked like she did in my dream. I couldn't keep the anticipation from making my hands shake.

"Yeah, well, I don't like words with 'spic' right in the middle. Besides, it is where I live."

"Yeah?" I asked, sneering. "Where's that? Margaritaville?"

"Hey, I hail from a colorful people!" Romeo defending, pointing an indignant finger in the air. "Besides, you wouldn't know style if it pitched a tent in your ass."

I didn't say anything, but I was pretty sure the ridiculous lights on the back of his car were not "stylish".

Oo0oO

"Ace in the hole time," Romeo murmured as we crouched behind some large pipes. "Been a lot of chatter about Yakavetta being in bed with the Chinese. This here is little Yaka's yeyo."

We crouched down further.

"Alright," Connor started, a determined look in his eyes. "Here's the plan." I held back the desire to groan. As was usual for Connor, his plan involved a lot of theatrics and required acrobatic skills that neither of us had. "Then we skin out, we go to Doc's for a shot of Irish, we're at home in time for tacos." He clapped three times, obviously excited with this ridiculous plan. "That's what we do."

I looked around at the ground uncertainly.

Connor turned to look at me. "What?"

"Well, its just this plan it-it-"

"What the fuck's wrong with the plan?"

"It-its-"

"Its genius," Romeo said, eyes widening. "I can even drive an F-lift, man. Got my class D license and everything."

"That's the fuckin' spirit!" Connor exclaimed, patting Romeo on the shoulder.

I was still a little unsure, though.

"I'm gonna need a gun."

Connor and I both looked at each other then back at Romeo. "Forget it."

"What the fuck, man? I'm in on this shit. I'm working here!"

Connor sighed and looked back at me. After a moment of silent hesitation, I nodded and gave an exasperated gesture toward him. Something about this felt wrong. I guess it was the fact that Kira wasn't here. She was, and always would be, the third saint.

"For fuck's sake!" Connor hissed, lifting his pant leg to pull a gun out. "Here's what yer gonna do. Yer gonna consider yerself a fuckin' pledge until we tell ya different." He slammed the gun into Romeo's hand.

Romeo was looking smug until he glanced into his hand. I snorted, trying to hold back laughter. "Can I consider myself your girlfriend, too?" he held up the tiny gun, no bigger than his palm.

"That's what ya get. Is there a fuckin' problem?" Connor asked moodily.

Romeo's eyes gave a little twitch and then he said, "Its fine."

Connor held up two fingers and moved them back and forth between his eyes and Romeo. "I'm fuckin' watching ya. Ya understand me? Now you stow that shit." Connor stood and looked behind us over the pipes.

I leaned over and said, "Don't ya worry Rome. Shit like this, it builds character." I couldn't help grinning, though.

"Yeah," Romeo agreed. "The character of a little bitch."

I chuckled and then made a straight face and used both hands to point my gun at him. "Now that's just unprofessional." I tapped on Connor's side and gestured for him to come down to our level again. "So, what do ya think?"

He took a moment, staring angrily at the pipe he was leaning on. "I think Yakavetta killed a good man just to send us a message."

I nodded, fury building in me from the murder of an innocent. "Well," I said, nodding and holding my gun up. "Lets send him one right back."

KIRA'S POV:

"Sorry, babe," Derrick said, rolling out of bed. "Emergency at work."

I frowned. Was it another case that was made to look like them? "Well, okay. I gotta go to Doc's soon anyway. I promised him I'd come by and see him tonight." I stood as well and we got dressed, heading down together. We split up outside, parting with a kiss. I sighed and entered the bar, nostalgia taking over as always. Doc wasn't at the bar like usual.

I sighed again and sat down on my stool, waiting for Doc to come out from wherever he was hiding. "K-Kira," he said, walking out from behind the wall and to behind the bar.

"Hey, Doc. Told ya I'd come back to see ya tonight, didn't I?"

He chuckled and nodded jerkily. "Not out w-with yer b-b-b-b- Derrick?"

I laughed lightheartedly. "No, Derrick had to head in to work. Something about an emergency." I paused, remembering what Doc had said yesterday. "So, ya said the boys would be comin', right?"

He got very serious all of a sudden. Then he sighed. "Come with me, K-Kira."

I was confused, but I stood from my seat and followed him behind the bar and up the stairs. There were two rooms off to either side of the hallway at the top of the stairs. He turned to one and turned the doorknob.

There had been quiet chattering coming from behind the door, but it stopped when Doc turned the handle. For some reason, my heart started beating like crazy.

Doc turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder, gently urging me to step into the room.

I did and when I looked up, it felt like all of the air that left my body the day Murphy left had come back into me, filling me with a sense of relief that soothed the loss I hadn't realized I had still been hanging onto.

"Kira?"

"Murphy?"

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**O.O Oh goodness. Sorry for the long wait, but thanks for reading! :D Please review! **


	4. Just Breathe

MURPHY'S POV:

The doorknob turned and the door opened a bit. Connor, Romeo, and I stopped talking, looking up to see who it was. We could see Doc, holding the door open for someone else. Then she stepped into the room and looked up.

I felt like I was dreaming. Probably because she looked exactly as she had in my dreams.

Her hazel eyes were just the same as they had always been, light and smiling. The only thing that was really different was the tighter angles of her face and the extra piercings she had gotten in her ears. She was still extremely short, and the freckles over her nose hadn't lessened with age. She was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a blue shirt, the collar of which I could see over the top of her long, black coat. I took time to note everything. The small silver hoop hanging from the top of her left ear, the length her black hair had grown to be, the disbelieving stare she was giving me.

"Kira?" I found myself saying.

"Murphy?" she asked.

I felt something move inside me when she said my name. Perhaps it was her voice, perhaps it was because it was _my _name she was saying, but whatever it was, it was controlling me now.

In the blink of an eye, I had crossed the room and crushed her to my body, my arms wrapped tighter around her than if I was holding on for my life. "Kira," I whispered, stroking her hair.

She didn't seem to want to be stroked, though. She pulled away, smoothing her hair out and huffing as she straightened her coat. Then, taking me even more off guard, she reared back and threw her fist into my face. "Ni feidir liom a chreidiuint fhag tu direach. Gra agam ort!" (I cant believe you just left. I loved you!)

I stumbled back a few steps.

"Kira!" Connor said in reminiscent tones, ignoring the fact that she had just assaulted me and stepping forward with his arms opened.

She held up a finger, poking it in his chest to stop him from coming any further. "Yer in just as much trouble as he is," she pointed back at me.

That's when I noticed it. The silver ring on her left ring finger. As she moved her hand, I saw the glint of light off of it. Engaged. Kira was engaged.

A million thoughts raced through my head. Who was she engaged to? If I had stayed or brought her with me, would this not have happened? When was the wedding? Was she happy?

I straightened and watched her face until she looked back at me. She appeared to grow sad as our eyes met. I tried to apologize without talking; she obviously didn't want words.

"Kira, ya know we've missed ya every day," Connor reasoned, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She sighed and looked down at the ground, shaking her head. Then she turned and quickly wrapped her arms around Connor's neck, squeezing him tight. He chuckled and hugged her back.

I looked over. Romeo was watching the whole thing confusedly. We would explain later. Kira stepped out of Connor's arms and turned to face me. Then she ran to me, hugging me forcefully. A chuckle of delight was forced out of me. Until I remembered the ring.

"Who is this broad?" Romeo asked as she pulled out of the circle of my arms.

Connor leaned back against the pool table. "Kira this is Romeo, Romeo that's Kira. She's an old friend. She's a saint."

His eyes got wide. "You guys let a chick in but gave me shit for wanting in?"

We shrugged. "She was with us through everything. She was there when-" Connor broke off. When we were issued by God to do this thing. "when we decided to do this."

Romeo still didn't look happy.

"And she's also Murphy's girl," Connor said, making faces at us.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably and said, "Not quite."

Connor gave her an exasperated eye roll. "Come on, Kira. I know yer mad at us for leavin', but ya got to get over it sometime and when ya do, Murphy-boy'll be there."

She shook her head, looking down and picking at her nails. "That's not what I mean, Conn." She took a deep breath and held her left hand up for him to see. "I'm engaged."

He did a double take, eyes widened.

I clenched my jaw and looked away. It was one thing to realize it on my own. It was another entirely to hear her say it out loud. "Who are ya gettin' married to?" I asked quietly, my throat feeling a bit dry.

"Derrick Duffy."

I lifted my head again. "As in Detective for the South Boston Police?"

She nodded.

I sighed. "I send him into intensive care to check on my girl, and he ends up marryin' ya instead." I chuckled humorlessly.

"I'm not yer girl anymore, Murph," she said it softly, but I could feel the pain and resentment in her words as if they were a knife.

I nodded, my eyes stinging as I looked up at her. "I know that." All too well. She had been repeating it to me every night for eight years, whether or not she knew it.

She looked away quickly as though it hurt her to look at me. "I should get back to the apartment. Derrick's probably back by now." She glanced around the tense, awkward roomful of people. "It was nice to meet ya, Romeo. And Conn, Murph… I'm glad yer safe." She gave one last nod and exited the room.

I leaned on a chair, my hand on its back and looked down at it, nodding.

"Murph," Connor started apologetically.

"So where are the shots?" I interrupted before he could say something that would push me over the edge. I looked around, my eyesight suspiciously blurry. Even Romeo didn't say anything smart.

* * *

**:( This chapter made me damn-near cry to write. I hope you guys liked it, though! Thanks for reading! Please review :D **


	5. Mourning

KIRA'S POV:

After stepping out of the bar and into the cold air outside, I leaned back against the wall behind me and sobbed, grateful that no one was out walking around in the streets.

He was back. He was different. His eyes seemed to have grown narrower, lines of age underneath them. But they were still the same electric blue they had always been. His hair was a bit longer than it used to be, and he had grown his facial hair out. He had grown. He seemed to be a bit taller, more muscular and his shoulders had widened. He was gorgeous. And he had come back.

I moved away from the wall, tears still falling and made my way to the apartment, knowing full well Derrick wouldn't be back for at least another hour.

Derrick. What was I going to do about Murphy while I was engaged to Derrick?

It was obvious by the intense hurt in his eyes when I spoke of my engagement that Murphy still wanted me to some degree. But he had left me behind. And I was getting married in a month.

"Damn MacManus boys," I murmured, barely smiling.

It had been wonderful to see Connor. I had wondered about how he was doing, what he was up to. He, too, was different. He was a bit more wide in his chest and shoulders, and his face was more careworn, but the same Connor that had always been quick to laugh and take care of someone in need was still there. All of the awkwardness from eight years ago (due to the fact that just after Murphy and I had gotten together, Connor and I had gotten drunk and slept together) was gone, seemingly forgotten. I knew that someday that mistake would come back to bite me in the ass.

I wiped my face and entered the apartment, devastated by the emptiness of the place. I was glad that Derrick wasn't here, though. I didn't want him to see me like this. How would I have explained it? No, I didn't want Derrick there.

Now that I was alone, I could afford to be honest. The only person I wanted here right now was Murphy. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and rock me back and forth as he murmured sweet words in Irish to me, making me forget my tears. I wanted him to kiss me like he used to, and hold me while I slept.

Derrick would do all that for me and more if he had to, but it wasn't the same. Murphy was... Murphy. And Derrick was amazing, but after the little taste of heaven I had gotten for only a few weeks eight years ago, I was sure nothing would ever fully satisfy my hunger for love again.

I took a shower, trying to dry the tears up. When I got out, Derrick was home, sitting on the bed. "Hey," he said around a yawn.

I grinned and curled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. "What's new?"

He sighed. "They're back."

I tried to look surprised. I don't think the boys really wanted anyone to know that they had been seen. "What do ya mean?"

He shook his head. "They hit a Chinese drug dealer's warehouse. It was definitely them. There's no way it wasn't."

I hesitated. "Do ya know where they are?"

He shook his head, frowning. "No."

I guessed that was good. I looked up at him to see him watching me, obviously a little sad that I was still so hung up on Murphy and was asking if he knew where he was. "I'm sorry," I sighed.

He shook his head. "I understand. Connor and Murphy were your friends. You're worried about them. I get it."

I grabbed his hand, thankful for the warmth. "Thank you."

We lay in silence for a while before he took a deep breath and said, "You cry in your sleep."

I lifted my head from his shoulder, sitting up. "What do ya mean?"

"Sometimes, at night, when you're asleep, you cry. You say 'Murphy' a lot."

I looked down involuntarily, guiltily.

He continued. "It used to be really bad. Almost every night. But it got better. Lately its been getting worse again."

"I'm sorry, Derrick, I-"

"Don't be. You loved him and he hurt you. Its normal. I just..." He sat up, placing a hand on my cheek. "I want to make sure you know that I love you. And I will never, ever, hurt you."

It was a little obvious (though he tried to conceal it) that he was trying to compete with the way Murphy had broken my heart. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't let myself. I nodded, leaning forward. "I know."

He kissed me gently, soothing my worries, but not erasing them completely. I let myself melt into him, trying to forget everything about the MacManus boys, everything about anything other than Derrick. I knew, in that moment, that he really wouldn't ever hurt me.

But still, I couldn't get the split image of the old Murphy and the new out of my head.

MURPHY'S POV:

"Wake up," sang a woman's voice.

"Kira?" I mumbled, opening my eyes. I had passed out last night on one of the old cots in the corner of the room and was now laying on my stomach, my head and one arm hanging off the edge. Kira was crouched down next to the cot, her hand on my shoulder. "What are ya doin'?" I rubbed lazily at my eyes.

"Wakin' ya up. We've got work to do, Murphy-boy." She gave my shoulder a last pat before walking away to shake Connor and Romeo awake. She seemed unfazed, but I was almost 100% sure that, as she was walking away, she mumbled, "Damn cute bed-head."

Oo0oO

"You wanna find something in Boston that don't want to be found, my uncle Cesar is a veterano," Romeo explained to us in the car on the way to the Silver Peso. "Out of the game, but still got his name."

Romeo parked the car and Kira and Connor filed out of the backseat, all of us walking together up to the doors of the Mexican restaurant. We stepped inside, swamped with smells of enchiladas and queso.

Romeo flagged down an older-looking man with graying hair and glasses, who directed us over to a table against a wall. He and Romeo sat on the booth side and Kira, Connor, and I sat on the opposite side in padded chairs. Romeo gave him a rundown of everything going on.

"Yakavetta's gunning for you muchachos, and hard. Even posted a reward, like Jesse James-style shit."

Kira looked impressed.

"Anyway, any of his guys that take you out, gets his palm crossed. Two hundred and fifty big ones."

Connor gave me a look across the table, tilting his head forward a bit.

Romeo let out a low whistle. "Quarter mil for us?" He seemed pleased.

"Us? What are you talking about 'us'?" Cesar asked, confusion covering his face.

Romeo and Cesar started talking in Spanish, but I knew I didn't have to worry about translations. Everyone at the table spoke Spanish.

"Esta con nosotros (He's with us)," I said, anxious to end the argument.

Cesar looked up at me, hesitation taking over. "Is he?"

I nodded.

"And is my nephew here pulling his own weight?"

Connor nodded and tapped his chest. "Mucho corazon. (a lot of heart)"

He looked back at Romeo and patted his hand in approval, murmuring some more in Spanish. Then he looked up at Kira. "And the girl?"

She sat up straighter. "Estoy en el tambien. (I'm in on it, too)"

He nodded, convinced now of our trustworthiness. "Ahora. Gorgeous George is running the show right now for little Yaka. And if anyone knows where he is, its that fat, fucking ugly perico. I'll get it out on the wire."

We thanked him and left the Silver Peso.

"Where to now?" Romeo asked, hopping into the car. Kira and Connor got into the backseat again.

She hesitated and then looked back and forth between Connor and I. "Have you boys ever been to Rocco's memorial in the mausoleum?"

We shook our heads.

"Maybe we should go there. I think he would've wanted ya to come see him after all this time."

We nodded and got in the car. My feet suddenly felt heavier thinking about Rocco again.

KIRA'S POV:

We were on our way to the mausoleum in the car when Romeo started sniffling and whimpering, trying to keep it quiet, but failing tremendously.

Murphy, in the awkward silence asked, "Hey, anybody hungry? Maybe we should stop at an IHOP or some-"

"SHUT UP!" Connor shouted beside me. "Romeo's cryin'."

Everything got silent, everyone holding in laughter. Murphy sucked his cheeks in, trying not to let it slip. But, all at once, the three of us burst out laughing.

I couldn't help but wonder at Murphy's happy laughter. But I caught myself and tried to get a handle on it.

"Assholes," Romeo accused, but he was laughing, too.

Oo0oO

We made our way down the golden hallways, the guys quietly surveying the plaques made for other dead. We reached Rocco's area, but Connor and Murphy were staring along the opposite wall.

I reached my hands out and smacked them gently on the arms. "Conn, Murph." Once I had their attention, I pointed at the square with Rocco's picture and name on it.

The three of us knelt, hands clasped, before the picture.

After a few moments of silent praying, Murphy murmured something I had discovered long ago. "Why did they use his mug shot?"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the tremors that started at my neck and snaked down my spine at the sound of his voice, so quiet, so close.

Connor looked up. "What? No."

They leaned closer, staring hard at the picture. "Yeah, you remember when he said he was all embarrassed, 'cause that fellow had to hold up all his long hair behind his head?"

Conn nodded. "Aye."

Murphy leaned forward farther and trailed a finger along the elongated figure sticking out from the side of the shot. "That's an arm."

They stared at it for a moment longer before busting out in uncontrollable giggles. I didn't realize how much I missed Irish accents other than my own. Sure I worked at the Irish diner with other Irish people, but... it wasn't the same. Maybe it was just MacManus accents I had missed.

I shook off the thought as I watched Romeo answer his ringing phone.

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**Guess who's back! :D I got a new laptop, and I have finally rescued all of my files and converted them so I can start uploading on all my stories now! Thank you guys who remained loyal to my stuff :P Leave me a review and let me know how I'm doing :) **


	6. European Cut - Far Superior

KIRA'S POV:

To say it was weird - to go from normal life, to killing in the name of God, to eight years of never seeing my partners as well as normal life with someone else, then back to killing for holy justice - was an understatement.

"Here," Connor said, holding two black guns out to me. "We took 'em with us when we left."

"I'd noticed," I grumbled irritably, accepting them.

My old guns matched both of the boys' and felt strange in my hand now. It had been eight years since the last time I had been a violent Irish girl, gun-toting and hot-headed. I stared hard at the guns in my hands, the engagement ring around my finger glinting in the light.

I had a brief flashback of the last time I had watched my hands hold these guns. My hands had been bloodied and bruised, cut up and trigger-happy. Now they were almost dainty, seemingly foreign to the concept of a firearm.

Murphy walked by and chuckled at my loose hold on them. "It's a gun, not a lit firecracker."

I frowned and adjusted my grip on the gun, habits kicking in that I had forgotten all about as I left my finger out to trail along the barrel. With that one little movement, I had gone from engaged late-thirties woman, back to the ass-kicking young girl I used to be.

"Looks like yer back in business," Murph mumbled, gazing at me amusedly.

I frowned and watched as Connor and Romeo continued to load their guns. We had come back to Doc's room above the bar to prepare for our ambush on Gorgeous George.

I leaned back against the pool table and assessed Murphy. "How have ya been, Murph? What have ya been up to?"

He sighed and shrugged. "Sheep farmin'."

I made a face, imagining the smell. "Ya know, for a while I was jealous of ya. Gettin' to go back to Ireland," I admitted, cocking my head to the side. "But then I got engaged and I didn't really want to leave."

He quickly looked away.

"All set, then?" Connor asked, walking up to us.

I nodded, feeling guilty about having made Murphy look so... sad.

Oo0oO

We wandered along the wall, following the sounds of show tunes. Connor and Murphy entered the room first, followed by me, and then Romeo.

"Yeah! You've just been paid," sang the male voice coming from under the tanning bed's lid. "So split now-" His song was cut off by Murphy hopping onto the top of the tanning bed, crushing the man inside.

Connor crouched down and stuck the barrel of his gun in between the bed and lid, straight at Gorgeous George's head. He started spluttering, trying to breathe under the weight of Murphy and the tanning bed.

"Lovely singin' voice, there, Georgie," Connor said conversationally. "We'd like you to sing for us. Can ya do that for me?"

George tried to get out a response, but only choked.

"Can ya do that for me?!" Connor yelled.

"Yeah!" came the strained reply.

Connor tapped the top of the tanning bed and Murphy, who had been bouncing up and down on it, hopped off. George fell out, on his hands and knees on the floor, only covered by a pink Speedo. Connor and Murphy grabbed both of his arms and dragged him back to the wall.

"Its getting hard to be a gentleman of fucking leisure around here!"

They pinned him up against the wall, holding his arms up by pointing their guns directly into his palms, holding them to the wall.

"I want the name of the shooter you motherfuckers used on that priest!" Murphy demanded forcefully. Something about his aggression was appealing.

"What priest?" George asked.

Murphy let out a light grunt and brought the back of his hand crashing into George's face. "His fuckin' name!"

"I don't know who it is!"

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" Romeo said beside me.

Connor and Murphy cocked their guns and stepped sideways, getting ready to blow two holes through his hands.

He cracked. "It's the truth! Concezio didn't tell nobody what he was doin' 'cause he knew nobody would've okayed it! That shooter's an independent contractor! That's all I fuckin' know!"

I rushed forward and grabbed his necklace, using it to choke him up. "Where the fuck is Yakavetta hidin'?"

He tried to cough. "Prudential building, for-" cough "fortieth floor. Jesus-" gasp "Christ!"

A phone began ringing. Romeo picked it up from George's coat and tossed it to Murphy who caught it easily.

"Ya meetin' someone tonight?" he asked, passing the phone to Connor.

I released the necklace.

He sighed and hung his head. "Yakavetta's racket chiefs. Street guys. Your kinda guys," his wild eyes looked the four of us over. "You could take a real bite out of crime here. And I can help you."

Connor smacked the side of his head with the phone, then held it up for him to see. "What the fuck is that?"

"Nobody forgot what you guys did to us last time. Everybody's hidin' indoors, they give out the location an hour before."

It was nice to know we had made such an impression on Boston's finest criminals.

"My uncle's place is closed at tonight. I got the key," Romeo said calmly.

Connor smacked George's face once more. "How does Mexican work for you, George? Do ya like that?"

"Doesn't matter to me," George said, breathing heavily. "I think I just shit my European-cut Speedos."

"Ugh..." I groaned, turning away from the fat man in disgust.

Oo0oO

"I don't like it," Murphy grumbled as Romeo unlocked the door to the Silver Peso.

"Ya don't have to like it," I retorted. "Its what's gotta be done."

He sighed, but nodded. "Just don't say anything to 'em. The accent will give ya away."

I hesitated as Connor and Romeo trailed George into the restaurant. When I was sure we were alone, I said, "Murph, can ya do me a favor?"

He nodded immediately. "Of course. Anything."

I was afraid he would say that. I sighed and pulled my engagement ring off of my finger, staring at it for a moment before grabbing his hand and holding it between us, palm up. "Keep this safe for me, Murphy MacManus," I said, looking into his eyes as I laid the ring in his hand. "and maybe I'll forgive ya for leavin'."

He smirked. "Ya got yerself a deal." His hand closed around mine, the ring between our hands and I recalled events from eight years ago and even before then.

I blew out a sigh and made myself shiver, using that as an excuse to pull my hand from Murphy's. "Let's get ready, shall we?" I led the way into the restaurant.

Only one text from George and about five minutes, and five of the seven who were coming to the gathering were sitting at the bar, chatting away and making inappropriate comments to me, and racial ones to poor Romeo. I could feel my gun burning as it was tucked away in my waistband, under the waitressing apron.

I glanced over at the closet I knew Murphy, Connor, and George were hiding in, handing a margarita to the fat man in front of me.

"Thanks, sweet cheeks," he said, throwing in a wink.

I tried to smile at him, but my disgust transformed it into a grimace.

"Yo, spicaroo," the fat man called to Romeo. "More nachos and mas salsa. Capisci?"

Rome looked like he had his hand full right now with the man calling him pepe and demanding a refill, so as I passed him, I whispered, "I got fatty, Rome." I kept my voice quiet, trying to remember what Murphy said about my accent.

He gave me a grateful look and I went to the back to get the chips and salsa. Murphy and Connor were just sneaking George in.

"Ya alright, lass?" Connor asked me.

I gave him an exasperated look. "About as alright as I can be." I grabbed up a paper boat of tortilla chips and filled a small bowl with salsa, then used my butt to open the door and walked back out to behind the bar. I set them down in front of the man, and as I was pulling away, he grabbed my wrist. I looked up at him immediately, my heart rate accelerating as I felt a twinge of familiarity.

"What's a nice, pretty girl like you, doing working in a dump like this?"

I wanted to tell him to let go of me, but I wasn't supposed to be talking. I wanted to flash him my gun and threaten him, but then the whole bar would erupt into chaos and we were still missing two men. So I shook my head back and forth, using my other hand to gesture to my throat, trying to get across to him that I couldn't talk.

He looked confused. "What, you some kind of mute, or something?"

I nodded in relief.

"Huh." He released my arm.

As soon as he let go of me, I rushed into the back, trying not to let them notice how freaked out I was.

For some reason, that man had reminded me of someone. Someone from eight years ago when all of this started. Ivan Checkov. Even though they looked and sounded nothing alike, and Ivan had actually started to go through with his advances...

Ivan had dragged me and Murphy out of our apartments and was planning on killing Murphy and had started to rape me. If it hadn't been for Connor jumping off of the building onto Ivan's henchman and throwing a toilet onto Ivan, both of us might've been dead. But still, the call had been close enough to haunt my nightmares.

I opened my eyes and realized I had been standing, leaning against the door and holding my head for about two full minutes. Murphy and Connor were watching me concernedly, George laying belly-side-down on a silver rolling cart.

"Kira," Murphy said, starting to walk toward me, his hands up. But then he stopped and just put a hand on my shoulder. "Are ya alright?"

I shook my head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... remembering-" I looked back at the wall around where I figured the fat man was sitting.

A look of understanding passed over his face. He must've been watching out of the small window along the wall separating the back and the dining floor. He must've decided that he didn't care anymore, because he pulled me to him and hugged me tight. He still smelled just exactly as he always had, bringing up more memories.

Over his shoulder, I could see that Connor had a tin can filled with green paint, and a brush. I pulled away from Murphy and looked over Connor's work.

Murphy stepped around me and began taping George down.

Romeo walked through the door. "These dagos are getting antsy, man. I'm getting spicaroo'd and pepe'd."

"At least yer not gettin' fuckin' groped," I muttered.

"What?!" Murphy straightened up in alarm, his voice ringing with fury.

Connor hardly looked up. "Alright, everyone just calm the fuck down," he lifted his brush to count heads out the window. "Ya'll have to stick it out. Just wait on one more."

Only a few moments later, after Connor and Murphy were done strapping down and painting George, the last man showed up. Connor had been pacing impatiently by the door, Romeo had been frying up French fries, I had been sitting on the countertop beside him, picking piping hot French fries out to chew on every now and then, and Murphy had been sitting beside me, taking the fries I passed to him.

"Alright," Connor said, checking to make sure there were enough bullets in his gun. "The gang's all here."

Romeo picked up the frying pans and tossed them and their contents (including the French fries) into the sink. I frowned deeply at him. He held his hand out to Connor and Murphy. "Give me my fucking BB gun."

Connor and Murphy shared a look and then Murphy said, "Nah, Rome. You've earned your stripes," and tossed a normal-sized gun lightly to him.

Romeo looked down at the gun in his hands and looked like he was about to cry (sounded like it, too).

"Hey," Murphy snapped, pointing at him. "Tighten it up."

He straightened his face out and then left the room.

"So that's yer new sidekick, eh?" I asked with a cocky smirk, eating one of the fries I had scooped up into my hand before Romeo tossed the rest down the drain.

Connor frowned, stealing one of the fries from my hand. "He's not our sidekick."

"Whatever ya say."


	7. Bloomy

KIRA'S POV:

It just happened so perfectly that we rolled George out just as the short, bald man who had just shown up called out, "Where's Gorgeous?"

His head hit the railing and everyone at the bar turned around, guns coming out of their holsters and into their hands in a flash.

As they rushed toward George, the four of us snuck behind the bar using the small cabinets leading to the back. Connor, Murphy and I hopped over the bar and snuck closer as Romeo stayed behind the bar.

"Erin go bragh?" asked the tall man in the fedora. "What the fuck is that?"

"It's Irish," Murphy said, causing heads to turn to where we had our guns raised. "For yer fucked."

I hadn't shot a gun in eight years, but it seemed old habits died very, very hard. It was as natural as breathing, my finger and the trigger meeting again and again as if a reunion of old friends.

Within two seconds all of the men were down. One of them had hit the table George was strapped to, knocking it sideways, but none of us were paying attention. My heart was pumping with adrenaline, the rush from righteous killing fueling my giggles.

"Que viva Mexico, bitches!" Romeo shouted, jumping over the bar and laughing loudly.

I turned to Murphy, smiling widely and, lost in the moment, threw my arms around his neck and allowed him to spin around once and put me back on the ground. I looked up at him, able to feel the wonder in my eyes. "I've missed it so much. I never thought I'd say that about killing, but... its true."

He chuckled and nodded.

When George had gotten up, the cart still stuck to his belly, he gripped at his hair, gazing around at the dead bodies of men he knew. "You guys have really turned me around on this. I'm, like, born again and shit!"

"Should we let him go?" Murph asked amusedly, glancing at Connor.

"You know what I think we should do? I think we should let God decide if he gets a second chance." He reached into his pocket and walked toward George.

"What the fuck are you doing?" George asked pitifully as Connor took all the bullets out of his snub-nosed pistol and put only one back in.

Connor pushed the cart, making George's side face him.

"What the- no, man, come on!"

Connor held the gun up to him, showing it to him first.

"Hey, what the fuck are you gonna do?!"

He cocked the gun and angled his face toward the floor. Then he pointed the gun at George's head. "You had best be right with your Jesus, boy," Connor said in a very believable southern accent, slowly raising his head.

Murphy, Romeo, and I stood behind them watching, amused with Connor's little display.

He pulled the trigger, producing a tiny click. After a shocked pause, Connor shouted, "WELL! Praise be to Jesus!"

George looked ready to pass out from relief. He started backing up toward the exit.

Connor, facing us, said, "Georgie."

"Yeah?"

"Ya know all good boys go to Heaven."

George gave Connor a look that clearly said he was insane, and then waddled out, his cart clanging the whole way.

"Ya know, that was perhaps one of the finest examples of spiritual guidance I've ever had the good fortune to witness," Murphy said, crossing himself.

"It was wonderful, wasn't it?" Connor asked, proud of himself.

I rolled my eyes.

"Mysterious ways, I tell ya, mysterious ways."

Murphy started pointing around at the dead bodies littering the floor. "Ya know, its about time one of yer fuckin' plans-"

Gunshots were fired around us.

Connor grabbed Romeo by the shoulders and brought him to the floor, trying to guard him. Murphy did the same with me, using his body to keep mine from danger. I clung to his chest as the sound of gunfire faded away. Murphy stood, and I popped up behind him, Connor rising beside us and we all drew guns on the red-headed woman in the room with us.

"Put it down!"

"Drop the gun!"

"Put the goddamn gun down right fuckin' now!"

Romeo took off to the back door where the second shooter had fled, puling his gun out on the way.

The woman raised her hands in surrender and laid her gun down. "Easy," she said softly, in a southern accent thicker than Connor's Irish one. "And I'm alone."

"He's gone," Romeo informed us, rushing up.

"Who the fuck are you?" Connor asked.

Her eyes lingered on me amusedly. "Does agent Duffy know you're working with the saints?"

I jolted, lowering my gun the tiniest bit. "Do I know ya?"

She shook her head. "No. But I know you." She smiled and pointed at me. "You're Duffy's little fiancé. But I don't see your ring."

"How the fuck do ya know that?" I barked, raising my gun higher.

"Answer my question, who the fuck are ya?" Connor yelled again.

"My name is Eunice Bloom. And I'm your new guardian angel."

I dropped my gun to my side. I recognized that name. She was the federal agent that was brought in on the case of the murdered priest. Derrick had told me about her.

Murphy cast me a curious glance, but Eunice was still explaining herself, so I kept quiet. "The torch was passed to me by a mutual friend."

"A mutual friend?" Murphy asked skeptically. "By the name of fuckin' who?"

"Paul Maximillian fuckin' Smecker."

Realization lit Connor and Murphy's eyes as they looked at each other and nodded, slowly lower their weapons. "We heard," Murphy said, referring to his death. "He was a good man."

"Aye," I agreed.

"Ya have our condolences," Connor told her, stepping back.

"And you mine," she said, nodding to him.

"Well I'm glad everybody- Who the fuck was that guy?" Romeo exploded.

"That, I suspect, was the shooter you four have been lookin' for."

"Who the fuck is this broad?" Romeo asked again. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Eunice glanced over at Connor. "Let's speed this up before your new sidekick has to dig any further into his impressive vocabulary."

As soon as the words "new sidekick" left her mouth, I was giving a smug "what did I tell you?" look to Connor, who gave me a defeated "shut the fuck up" head shake.

"Oh no you didn't!" Romeo said, shaking his head.

"Oh yes I did," she replied pleasantly. "I am an FBI agent controlling this investigation from within in order to ensure that all of you never see the inside of a prison cell. Now, I am conspiring to do this with three likeminded individuals who have aided you in the past. Though I have yet to inform them of my agenda because, well," she broke off and smirked with a wink at me. "a girl's gotta have her fun." She added in a knowing glance between Murphy and I that I was pretty sure only I had enough female intuition to catch.

"Dolly, Duffy, and Greenly?" Murphy asked.

"The very same. I don't suppose you've told detective Duffy that you've been cleanin' up the streets of South Boston with your old friends, have you?"

I opened my mouth, but settled for shaking my head no, instead.

"Perfect," she said with a smirk.

"How are the lads doin'?" Connor asked, leaning against the bar.

"Two of them are scared. One's just horny." She rid herself of her jacket.

"Bet ya I can tell ya which one," Murphy said to Connor with a smile.

"Bet ya cant," I mumbled.

His eyes became guarded as he picked up on my meaning.

"Lets save it for group," Eunice chimed in, walking closer to us. "Right now we've got a big problem."

"What's that, then?" I asked.

"This simply won't do," she gestured to the carnage around her.

We dragged bodies over to the bar, lining them up as though they had done this to themselves. I helped to mop up excess blood after it had all been pooled around the bodies.

After we were done with the cleanup, Eunice said, "You guys should wait for me and the other three somewhere private. Somewhere safe."

"Docs," Connor, Murphy, and I said at the same time.

Eunice raised an eyebrow and Connor began giving her instructions on how to get to McGinty's.

"Psst," Murphy whispered to me, tugging on my elbow. I turned around to see him nodding his head toward the exit.

I glanced back at Connor, Eunice, and Romeo before following him out the door. "What?" I asked shortly.

"Let's walk to Doc's. I need to talk to ya anyways."

I knew I should've said no. I knew what would happen if we took a private walk in the dark together. But, as always, my better judgment meant nothing next to Murphy's blue eyes. "Sure."

He held his arm out to me.

I frowned, but linked my arm through his, resting my hand on his bicep. Why, dear God, did he have to be so nicely muscled?

He drew in a deep breath and then, as if afraid of my answer, asked, "Kira, do ya love me still?"

I sighed, lowering my head. "Murphy, I-"

"I know ya love Duffy. But I'm asking ya. Do ya love me? Don't worry about how I take it. Just be honest."

I looked up at him and sighed. May as well be truthful. "Of course I do, Murph. And something tells me I always will."

He grinned widely at me and it made my heart hurt to wipe it away so quickly.

"But I'm gettin' married in a month."

He turned to me and grabbed my hands as the orange bug containing Romeo and Connor raced past, honking at us.

He ignored them, putting both of my hands on his chest. "Kira, I need ya. I know ya need me, too. So stay here," he put one of his hands behind my neck and pulled me forward, kissing my forehead and then sighing against it. I closed my eyes and tried as hard as I possibly could not to fall into him. "With me."

I lifted my head, looking up at him. He had always been taller than me, but it seemed he was getting shorter and shorter as the seconds slowly ticked by. By the time his mouth was right in front of mine, our hearts were beating in fast-paced synchronization. I could feel his heartbeat under my hand and hear mine roaring in my ears.

Then our lips met and years soared by. I slid my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer to me, allowing him to wrap his arms tightly around me.

Then the police sirens started up. I jerked back.

"C'mon, we gotta go," Murphy said, laughing happily and grabbing my hands, pulling me with him as he jogged down the street.

I would wait to kill him until later.

Oo0oO

When we got to Doc's, I pulled him back before he could open the door. "Murphy, we cant keep doin' this. I cant leave Derrick. He's... He's good for me." He looked like he was about to argue, but I stopped him by saying, "He would never hurt me."

I had struck a nerve. He clenched his jaw. "I thought ya said ya'd forgive me if I held onto yer ring."

"I said maybe." I sighed, saddened from fighting with him so much. "And I do forgive ya. I'm just... makin' a valid point. Can I have my ring back?" I held my hand out.

He looked me over and then stuck his hand into his coat pocket, withdrawing the ring and placing it in my hand, leaving his hand in mine. "Just remember," he whispered, leaning down to my ear. "I'll always love ya more."

Before I could think of a way to respond, he had turned and walked through the door into the bar.

* * *

**Thank you guys for reading! :) Leave me a comment. What do you think will happen with Kira and Murph? What does she decide to do about Derrick? **


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